


Blood Must Not Have Blood

by psychotic_cat17



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Spoilers 3.05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotic_cat17/pseuds/psychotic_cat17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of Lexa's choice not to avenge her massacred army.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Must Not Have Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea of the possible consequences of Lexa's choice of inaction in 3.05. Therefore, there are spoilers for 3.05 and probably all the episodes leading up to it. So if you're not caught up on the series, you should probably choose not to read this.
> 
> I really don't think this fic needs the 'graphic depictions of violence' tag, but it's tagged that way for precautionary measures.

**Blood Must Not Have Blood**

  **Chapter 1**

 It had been two days since Lexa had shocked everyone, not least of all Clarke, when she’d declared that, “Blood must _not_ have blood.” As much as Clarke had wished and hoped that Lexa would listen to her reasoning, she hadn’t actually believed that she would be able to save her people this time. And after seeing the massacre, three hundred warriors who had been sent to protect her people, slaughtered by them instead, Clarke honestly couldn’t blame Lexa for her anger, or her demand for justice. It was the exact same thing Clarke had asked the Coalition for when the Ice Nation had destroyed Mount Weather with her people inside.

 Two days they had waited while the bodies of the slain had been burned, and Indra had healed enough that she would be able to make the trip to Polis without too much danger of it killing her. In that time, Lexa had sent messengers to the clans to keep their armies at home with her edict that there would be no retaliation for the lives they’d lost. Lexa had kept busy, helping clear the field of dead bodies. Clarke thought that the physical labor was Lexa’s way of atoning for their deaths since she wasn’t seeking the usual form of Grounder retribution.

 Lexa returned to her tent well past nightfall on both nights, covered in dirt and blood like she’d been through a war instead of just cleaning up after one. Clarke tried to talk to her, about anything that wouldn’t remind her of the death and gore she’d been wading through all day, but Lexa wouldn’t be drawn into conversation. The Commander would answer when spoken to, but she didn’t encourage a dialogue. She ate, she checked on Indra’s condition, and she went to bed. That was the extent of her activities after a day on the killing field.

 And Clarke hated it. She hated the shadows she saw in Lexa’s usually vibrant green eyes. They were haunted in a way Clarke knew all too well after saving her own people at the expense of every life in Mount Weather. She wondered if some part of Lexa blamed her for this mess like she’d blamed Lexa before. Death was a way of life on the ground, but Clarke had never considered that the Grounders might hate it just as much as she did, until today. It affected them all.

 Only when the last body was honored and Indra was stabilized enough to move, did Lexa give the order to start back to Polis. Clarke could see the stiffness in her frame, as though her body rejected the command to leave without seeking justice for the fallen first, as Lexa mounted her horse. On this journey, Lexa was rigid and silent, her demeanor completely different from the easy, amiable Commander Clarke had bantered with on the way to Arkadia.

 They travelled slowly, at a pace that wouldn’t tax Indra’s healing injuries. Lexa seemed overly cautious, but Clarke couldn’t blame her when she’d just buried three hundred of her warriors. One more, one who counseled her and knew her unlike the others, might have been enough to break her.

 Clarke had spent the first part of the trip riding next to Lexa, trying to get her to talk, but the Commander was trapped in her own thoughts. She didn’t think Lexa was shutting her out on purpose, but it was hard not to be at least a little hurt by the cold behavior. So Clarke left her to her thoughts, instead riding back by Octavia, who was keeping one eye on Indra and the other on the forest around them.

 They were just about to make camp for the night when Clarke heard shouting coming from the front of the line. Her eyes immediately searched for Lexa, and when she couldn’t find her, Clarke spurred her horse into action, leaving Octavia brandishing her sword beside Indra’s litter while she searched for the Commander.

 She heard Lexa before she saw her. The Commander was giving orders in Trigedasleng, and while Clarke couldn’t translate what was being said in the rapid-fire exchange, two of Lexa’s guards went riding off into the woods to the right, their weapons at the ready. They must have been attacked, but from what Clarke could see, no one had been hurt.

 Clarke finally spotted Lexa’s horse, but it was riderless. It wasn’t until she rounded the snorting, agitated animal that Clarke saw Lexa on the ground, one arrow through her right shoulder and another sticking out of her side. She was still shouting at the guards surrounding her, something about how they needed to protect Indra, not just her, but none of them were listening. Their attention was on the forest, watching for another attack.

 Seeing Lexa on the ground stopped Clarke cold for a minute and she felt like she couldn’t breath. There was blood pooling in the mud beneath Lexa’s shoulder, and while Clarke couldn’t see the stain the blood was making on Lexa’s dark clothes, she could see the patch of soaked fabric over her hip expanding far too quickly. Not even when Lexa had fought Roan had Clarke been so blatantly faced with Lexa’s mortality.

 It wasn’t until Lexa grabbed the shaft of the arrow stuck in her hip and wrenched it out with a growl that was more fury than pain that Clarke was able to prod herself into action. She quickly dismounted, uncaring of the sloppy, uncoordinated move that had her almost falling to the ground. It only took her two steps to reach Lexa and crash to her knees beside her, stilling the Commander’s hands before she could try to rip the other arrow out as well. That one had gone all the way through her shoulder, and Lexa would only cause more damage by tearing it back out.

 “Lexa!” Clarke cried. Once she was certain Lexa was going to leave the arrow in her shoulder alone, Clarke locked her hands together and put pressure on the ragged wound on the Commander’s hip. Clarke had never been cursed with a weak stomach, but with Lexa’s blood welling up around her fingers, the warm liquid lifeforce leaking from the Commander’s body, Clarke felt queasy for the first time. Black blood was not a good thing, it was usually an indication of arterial blood, but Clarke had to remind herself that this was natural for Lexa, for a commander. Lexa was _not_ going to die.

 Clarke ignored the groan of pain that escaped from Lexa as she compressed the wound. Once she had the bleeding stopped, or at least slowed, she would worry about Lexa’s pain. Clarke had no idea if Lexa could even receive a transfusion from anyone other than another Nightblood, and they wouldn’t have access to one until they reached Polis, so stopping the bleeding was her first priority.

 “What happened?” Clarke didn’t know if she was asking Lexa, one of the guards, or even just the universe at large, but it didn’t really matter. Lexa was Commander. No one was supposed to attack her. And the probability that two random arrows just happened to strike her when no one else was injured, just didn’t seem likely to Clarke. Lexa had been the target.

 Clarke cleared her mind and focus only on prioritizing what she needed to do to help Lexa. After a heated argument with the guards, she finally got one of them to leave Lexa’s side long enough to find her some fresh bandages so she could wrap the Commander’s wounds. She would have to do a better job of it later, but for now this was triage.

 Lexa stayed awake and alert through the entire process, but Clarke could feel her movements getting weaker and more sluggish the longer she worked on her. Clarke couldn’t imagine that Lexa didn’t feel the pull of unconsciousness, but the Commander was too stubborn to just give in and put herself out of her misery. But Clarke was also kind of glad, because at least if Lexa was awake, she knew the Commander was alive.

 A makeshift camp was hastily erected in the nearest clearing they could find, and everyone breathed a little more easily when Lexa was able to be moved into her tent, out of the open. Clarke wanted to construct a litter to move her, but Lexa, ever the Commander, refused to look weak in front of her men. She walked into the tent under her own willpower, with Clarke right beside her to slow her descent when she fell not two steps from the flap that had thankfully settled back over the entrance.

 “Stupid, stubborn, Commander,” Clarke muttered as she put Lexa’s left arm around her neck and half pulled, half stumbled with Lexa over to the chaise longue that served as her bed when she travelled outside of Polis. Clarke was surprised by the vehemence in her voice, but she supposed it was easier to be angry than scared.

 She got Lexa as comfortable as possible on the chaise before scurrying around for more rudimentary medical supplies. The arrow through Lexa’s shoulder was still there, but now that she had a relatively sterile area to work with out of the dirt and mud, she felt better about cleaning the wound properly after she’d taken the shaft out.

 Lexa remained as unmoving as stone throughout the entire process, except for one sharp cry when Clarke had pulled the arrow out. Her normally tanned skin was looking sallow and pale, and a fine sheen of sweat now covered the surface. Still, Lexa remained steadfastly awake, her glazed eyes the only indication of the pain she must be suffering.

 Clarke had just finished re-wrapping the wound to Lexa’s hip when she heard a couple horses gallop into camp and come to a stop right outside the Commander’s tent. She had just enough time to cover Lexa with a fur before the two guards who’d been sent after Lexa’s attackers entered. One stayed by the door while the other approached the lounge, falling to one knee when he made it to the side of Lexa’s bed.

 “ _Heda_ ,” he said with a bow of his head. “We followed the assassins until we lost their trail in the thicket to the west. No confirmation of which clan might have sent them.”

 “Clan?” Clarke couldn’t - didn’t want to - process that information.

 Lexa’s pain-tinged gaze moved to her. “Thank you for your help, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was strong despite everything she’d been through today. “You should get some food and rest while you can. We’ll be leaving at first light.”

 Clarke’s first instinct was to object. Lexa was barely conscious now, she wouldn’t make it half a day on a horse tomorrow, and Clarke couldn’t see the Commander agreeing to ride on a litter. It had taken Lexa commanding Indra to travel that way to get the proud general to do so, but no one would be commanding Lexa to do anything. The only thing that stopped Clarke from saying something was their audience. Lexa had already been through enough today, and Clarke knew she wouldn’t want to defend another challenge when she could barely sit up on her own. So Clarke took Lexa’s dismissal for what it was and left, her silence the only hint of her disapproval.

 It had turned fully to night while she’d been attending to Lexa, and Clarke was surprised by the darkness when she exited the Commander’s tent. She let her eyes adjust before walking towards the nearest fire. Their party was small, so only three campfires were scattered around the little clearing they’d claimed as their own for the night. Clarke was grateful when she saw Octavia’s familiar face across the firepit as she sat down on a log that had been rolled close to the flames.

 Clarke didn’t realize how tired she really was until she plopped down on the hard chunk of wood. She had a pain in her upper back and shoulder from hunching over Lexa for hours and she stretched it out for a minute before collapsing back in on herself. Octavia handed her the hind end of some small woodland creature, and Clarke took it gratefully, pulling off a string of meat and popping it into her mouth.

 “How’s Indra?” she asked, realizing that she hadn’t even thought of her other patient since Lexa had been shot. Clarke hoped that Octavia had been able to handle her, because if Clarke knew her at all, Indra would have been trying to get up and go after the assassins herself.

 “She’s fine. Her anger makes her feel strong,” Octavia said with a small smile. “But I convinced her to stay put until she’s fully healed and can really make the bastards pay.” A short silence passed between them before Octavia asked, “How’s the Commander?”

 Clarke released a tense breath and passed a hand over her face as though trying to wipe the day away. “She’ll live as long as she doesn’t push herself too hard. But I have a feeling that’s what she’s used to doing, so reining her in will be difficult.” _I’ll just have to find a way to keep her safe from herself._

 “The men Lexa sent after her attackers came back,” Clarke said slowly, not sure she should be discussing this with Octavia but needing to with someone. “They seemed to imply that it was sanctioned by one of the clans. One of the clans in _Lexa’s_ Coalition. That can’t be true, can it? Lexa can’t be facing another challenge to her power so soon after dealing with the Ice Nation, can she?”

 Octavia gave her a look that Clarke couldn’t quite decipher, almost like she was wondering if Clarke was serious. “You can’t really be that naive, Clarke. The _second_ that Lexa decreed that blood must _not_ have blood was the second that she put a bullseye on her chest. It was the second that _you_ put that bullseye on her chest by asking her to let the slaughter of _three hundred_ of her warriors go unanswered. Now it’s not just Pike who wants her dead, it’s her own people.”

 Clarke was stunned. All she’d wanted to do was stop the killing. Bring about a peace that would allow generations of both their people to live without the threat of war hanging over their heads. But in the process, she might have sacrificed her greatest ally in the fight. The Commander was supposed to be invincible, but today she’d seen just how flawed an assumption that was. Lexa was injured, and it was at least partially her fault.

 “I-I’m sorry,” Clarke said.

 The expression on Octavia’s face softened and she released a deep breath. “She makes her own decisions, Clarke. It would be a disservice to the Commander to think otherwise. But her choices _are_ colored by her feelings for you.”

 Silence stretched between them for long minutes afterwards. Clarke’s thoughts revolved around what Octavia had said, both that she had put Lexa in danger, and the depth of the feelings Lexa had to have for her it it affected the Commander’s decision making at all. She knew which deserved more of her attention, but she didn’t seem to be in control of where her thoughts went.

 Clarke didn’t know how long she sat staring at the fire before Octavia got up. She gave Clarke’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walked past. “Good night, Clarke. You should try to get some sleep.”

She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but had no immediate plans to find a spot to bed down for the night. Her mind was still racing. Clarke had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to quiet her whirling thoughts for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Octavia is literally me and everything she said kind of what I wanted to scream at Clarke after watching this episode, which is why I wrote this.


End file.
